


Flufftober 2020: The Fluff and the Furious

by Vexatious



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bittybones (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Horrortale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Lamiatale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Swapfell (Undertale), Babybones (Undertale), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flufftober 2020, Horrortale Papyrus (Undertale), Horrortale Sans (Undertale), Lamiatale Sans (Undertale), Other, Swapfell Papyrus (Undertale), Swapfell Sans (Undertale), Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Sans (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26754469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vexatious/pseuds/Vexatious
Summary: Prompt: Coffee Shop AUPairing: Classic AlphyneCategory: Romantic
Relationships: Alphys/Undyne (Undertale), Papyrus & Sans (Undertale), Papyrus/Papyrus (Undertale), Sans/Sans (Undertale), Sans/Toriel (Undertale)
Comments: 96
Kudos: 91





	1. Day One: Coffee Shop AU (Alphyne)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Coffee Shop AU
> 
> Pairing: Classic Alphyne
> 
> Category: Romantic

Undyne was not the type of monster to overlook details; her eye for minutiae had gotten her promoted through the ranks to Mount Ebott’s Chief of Police after all. Today, though, she had underestimated the weather, and the summer heat and humidity left her water bottled drained long before the end of her daily jog. Overheated, sticky with sweat, and uncomfortably thirsty, Undyne ducked into the first little coffee shop she saw to purchase a cold bottle of water.

That decision changed her life forever.

Undyne grabbed a bottle of water out of the cooler, barely paying attention to her surroundings… until she saw the barista at the counter. The short yellow lizard monster wore a frilly apron and a bow adorned her head spikes. Her name tag had “Alphys” written on it in round handwriting with tons of flourishes, and underneath that, in neat, small letters, it said “Owner.” Undyne stood at the cash register, staring in awe at the monster in front of her and entirely forgetting that she needed to actually pay for her purchase. 

The lizard monster, Alphys, repeated the total, stammering a bit as she did. With a quick apology, Undyne handed over some cash and hurried out of the coffee shop without even waiting for her change. Outside, she leaned against the brick wall of the building, heart thumping a rapid rhythm in her chest, bottle of water dangling, unopened, from her hand. She couldn’t stop thinking about Alphys.

Undyne began to jog past the little shop every day. At first, she only stopped to check that her running shoes were properly tied, glancing surreptitiously through the window at Alphys when she discovered, time after time, that her shoes did not need the attention. She finally found the courage to go into the shop again when she accidentally left her water bottle in her work locker. Sure, she could’ve gone back to get it, but the coffee shop wasn’t far, and Undyne supported local small businesses!

Once again Undyne grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler, but this time she remembered to pay for it, dropping the change into a festively decorated tip jar. She lingered in the shop with her purchase, just listening to Alphys talk to various customers. It became a daily ritual for Undyne, stopping at the coffee shop, buying a bottle of water whether she needed it or not, and observing the cute lizard monster who ran the shop.

The more Undyne thought about it, the more things began to make sense. She’d never really noticed the males around her when they attempted to flirt with her or asked her out on dates. She’d brushed them all off with disinterest, thinking that perhaps they weren’t her type though she had no clue what her type might be. Now she knew. Her type was an adorable lizard monster who wore the cutest outfits, spoke with a slight stutter when nervous, and always blushed ever so slightly if Undyne stayed at the cash register to talk to her.

 _I’m a lebiab_ , thought Undyne before correcting herself. _Lesbiam. Less bien_....

She liked girls, and more importantly, one girl in particular, one female monster whose sumptuous curves and clever mind had stolen her heart so easily and completely that she hadn’t even noticed it. Now she needed to figure out what to do about it. How do you flirt with someone that you’re already head over heels for?

* * *

Alphys had developed a crush on a customer. Each day before work, she chose one of her cutest outfits, knowing that the buff fish monster, Undyne, would be stopping by later. Undyne always wore her jogging outfit to the coffee shop- a black sports bra and tight lycra pants in a bold and colorful pattern. This allowed Alphys an uninterrupted view of some very toned lady abs, abs which she tried hard (and mostly succeeded) not to stare at.

Cautious peeks through the big glass windows facing the street had become daily visits for bottled water and eventual conversations. Alphys once mentioned a love for magical girl animes, and Undyne had absolutely glowed as she passionately described a favorite anime of hers- one involving big swords and tenacious heroines. The attraction was undeniable, at least on Alphys’ end, but she had to find a way to break the ice about a possible date.

Alphys decided to do what she did best- create the perfect recipe for a baked good, something tailored specifically to Undyne’s tastes and formulated for her healthy lifestyle. She’d seen Undyne staring longingly at turtle brownies (which contained absolutely no turtle, a joke that had made Undyne roar with laughter), but the fish monster always passed them up because of all the refined sugar and carbs.

Alphys worked diligently to make something healthy that satisfied that craving for decadence, and finally, she settled on a recipe to win her sushi crush’s heart.

The next time Undyne stopped by the coffee shop, Alphys stepped out from behind the counter, making her heart go doki-doki. It was a bold move for the usually shy lizard monster, but the two female monsters had become comfortable enough with each other that Undyne didn’t suspect anything more than a coffee shop owner joining a regular customer for a drink and a chat.

As the pair of female monsters took seats at one of the quaint little bistro tables with their mosaic tile tops, Alphys surprised Undyne by placing a plate of turtle brownies in front of her. Undyne opened her mouth to protest, but Alphys quickly reassured her that these particular baked goods had been crafted with care… and less calories, carbs, and refined sugar. She took advantage of Undyne’s open mouth by breaking off a piece of one of the brownies and popping it inside.

Undyne chewed thoughtfully and swallowed.

“Well?” asked Alphys, eager to know if the healthy treats were a success.

“I like you… I mean, them!” Undyne blurted. Her face turned as bright red as her hair, and Alphys smiled smugly.

“That’s what I thought.”


	2. Day Two: First Meeting (Swapfell Skelefam)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: First Meeting
> 
> Pairing: Swapfell Skelefam
> 
> Category: Familial
> 
> Warning: Mild hurt/comfort

As a child, the Papyrus from the Swapfell universe- who would someday come to be known and feared as Mutt- remembered feeling invisible. Each day he accompanied his father, the Royal Scientist, to the Royal Laboratory where he spent his time being shuffled from assistant to assistant to keep him from getting underfoot. His father’s study of SOUL traits took top priority, even over the experiment that he called his son.

The lab assistants possessed about as many parenting instincts as their scientist boss… none. Young Papyrus wandered through the lab unattended, a ghost among the machines, watching the workings of the laboratory unseen. One day he discovered a room containing something that changed his life forever.

Papyrus recognized the room, especially the prison-like crib that kept him contained during his earliest babybones days, isolated days in which he’d learned that crying for attention seldom yielded results. The current occupant of the crib had learned no such lesson yet, and Papyrus snuck over to the crib to take a peek at the wailing inhabitant.

Huge purple eyes stared up at him from an almost comically tiny babybones. How could such a small monster make such a deafening racket? The chubby-cheeked babybones screeched, flailed his tiny fists, and kicked his short legs in a tantrum of epic proportions… but nobody came. Papyrus knew how isolation felt, and he wouldn’t wish it on anyone, especially not a babybones.

Reaching into the crib, Papyrus lifted the screaming babybones out and nestled it into his arms. One of the babybones’ wrists had a bracelet on it made of cold surgical steel that read “Sans.” Once Sans had been settled against Papyrus’ chest, his crying subsided. He blinked his enormous eyes up at the other skeleton… and smiled. The color of his eyelights mixed with the shimmer of unshed tears made it seem as if Sans’ sockets had captured the stars from the Surface and brought them to the Underground.

Papyrus couldn’t stop staring. The babybones babbled and papped the older skeleton’s face with uncoordinated but eager hands, but the action eventually tired him out. Yawning hugely, Sans’ sockets slowly closed, and he fell asleep, safe and secure in Papyrus’ arms.

Dr. Gaster, the Royal Scientist, searched the entire lab for his wayward son, finally finding him in a spare room that had been designated as a temporary nursery for his latest experiment. Papyrus was tucked away in a corner of the room, clutching something to his chest. When he approached, Gaster realized what his first son, his first successful experiment, held- the new babybones and second successful experiment, Sans.

Gaster nudged Papyrus awake carefully, trying not to jostle the drowsy babybones. This was the first time since his creation that Sans had not cried with devastating volume. Something about Papyrus must comfort him, Gaster noted thoughtfully. When Papyrus opened his sockets and saw Gaster looking down at him, he pulled baby Sans even more tightly against his body as if he could shield the babybones from a life of alienation and disillusionment with only his two small arms.

“I see you’ve found your brother,” Gaster intoned in a flat, featureless voice.

_Brother_. Sans was his brother.

Papyrus swore then and there that he would never let Sans experience neglect. Raising Sans would become his purpose, and he would see to it that his brother never felt invisible. Even at that age Papyrus didn’t like to make promises, but the promise he made to Sans on the first day that they met was a promise that he kept.


	3. Day Three: College/University AU (SpicyHoney)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: College/University AU
> 
> Pairing: SpicyHoney
> 
> Category: Romantic

Stretch walked into his Human Cultural Studies classroom on his first day of college and nearly turned around and walked right back out again. Of course his brother had criticized him about his decision to delay college for a few years… and then a few years more, but he never imagined that he’d put off his education long enough that a childhood friend (and unrequited high school crush) would end up being his professor.

Obviously, Edge considered his education and career a priority and had focused on it immediately following their high school graduation. It didn’t surprise Stretch. He admired the goal-driven skeleton for his ambition and tenacity, the very same attributes that made scoring a date with the other skeleton extremely unlikely for a dedicated ne’er-do-well like himself. As if to underscore this fact, Edge scowled at him the moment he slouched into the classroom and sank into a seat in the back of the room.

The scowl maintained its position on Edge’s angular features as the skeleton professor prowled through the room, handing each student a hefty course syllabus. When he arrived at Stretch’s seat, the scowl transformed into a smirk. Stretch reached for the syllabus, and Edge yanked it away, holding it just out of his reach.

“NICE TO SEE THAT YOUR MODUS OPERANDI OF PROCRASTINATION AND LAZINESS HAS SUBSIDED, CARROT,” Edge said, voice pitched low so that only Stretch could hear his words. Stretch could see that Edge’s tongue was still as sharp as his cheekbones, but he loved antagonistic repartee. 

“wrong as ever, Edgy McEdgelord. i intend to procrastinate lazily throughout my entire indenture as a student here until i receive a degree that i will never use as i pursue my preferred career of wasting my life entirely through inactivity,” quipped Stretch, loudly enough for the other students to overhear. Several of his classmates tittered, but Edge just gave him a slow, knowing smile.

“GOOD LUCK TRYING TO PASS MY CLASS THEN.” He slammed the syllabus down on the tabletop in front of Stretch and stalked off with his usual grace, though his usual grace involved a hip sway that Stretch couldn’t help staring at.

It was going to be a long semester.

The first near-perfect test score might have been a fluke, but the next few established a pattern that Edge couldn’t deny. He stood next to Stretch’s usual seat near the door, shuffling through mediocre and abysmal papers to present the highest score in the class to the student that he had expected to do the worst. Secretly, though, the grumpy skeleton professor was proud of Stretch for applying himself and showing off the intelligence that few knew he possessed.

“TOP SCORE AGAIN, CARROT. AT LEAST SOMEONE IN THIS CLASS IS PAYING ATTENTION.” He actually handed the paper with its marked absence of red ink to Stretch instead of tossing it down onto the table as he so often did.

“when you’re up front lecturing, i just can’t look away,” Stretch admitted honestly. His SOUL ached, feelings that he thought had been laid to rest long ago stirring again any time the professor so much as glanced his way with those dangerous red eyelights. “to be honest, though, i’m surprised you remembered me that first day. i didn’t think you ever noticed me in high school.” Stretch winced at his own babbling.

“OF COURSE I REMEMBER YOU. HOW COULD I FORGET SUCH A-” Edge closed his mouth abruptly, scrambling for a word to replace “handsome” and change the tone of the sentence “- SUCH AN UNRELENTING SLACKER.” Edge lifted the other students’ test results to cover his blush and hurried back to his own desk.

It was going to be a long semester.

By the time the course ended, the tension between the two skeletons had only gotten stronger. Edge avoided Stretch like a highly contagious plague, and Stretch’s notebook contained more sketches of his professor than lecture notes. The end of the class should’ve been the end of the awkward teacher-student interactions, but Stretch couldn’t help checking the online course list for more classes taught by his rekindled crush.

Stretch’s eyelights scoured the classroom for any sign of seating and found none. Perplexed, he watched Edge stroll into the classroom, wearing something that definitely was not his usual tailored shirt, tie, and slacks. To Stretch’s untrained fashion eye(socket), the outfit resembled pajamas- something Stretch might wear on the first day of class, but Edge would never leave his house in under normal circumstances.

Stretch hid his confusion by calling out a question as Edge strode past him. “what am i in for this semester, Edgelord? philosophy of ancient civilizations? monster-human history and politics?” Stretch had picked a more advanced course, looking for a challenge… and another chance to impress the other skeleton.

“THIS IS ADVANCED JUDO,” Edge stated flatly. 

For once, Stretch had no response, and a wide smile crept across Edge’s features when he realized that he had the upper hand. Moving as swiftly as a striking cobra, Edge grabbed Stretch, spun, leaned, and tossed the slacker over his shoulder and onto the mat. Stretch laid on his back on the ground with an audible “oof,” completely stunned and just a little bit in love. 

“nice pajamas,” he wheezed.

“IT’S A JUDO GI,” sniffed Edge loftily, staring down at his student. “I AM GUESSING THAT YOU SIGNED UP FOR THIS CLASS SO THAT YOU COULD SPEND YOUR TIME LOLLYGAGGING AND BEING UNCONSCIOUS ON THE FLOOR, BUT I AM HERE TO TEACH YOU. NOW GET UP.”

Edge offered Stretch his hand. Not suspecting any foul play, Stretch tried not to blush when their hands touched. Edge tugged Stretch upwards, then dropped backwards, falling to his back and using one leg to propel Stretch over his body and onto the mat behind him.

It was going to be a long semester… but Stretch kind of liked it.

The moment enrollment opened after the summer break, Stretch sat at his computer, scrolling through a list of professors to see which classes were available from Edge. He considered filling his entire semester exclusively with those classes, but he needed to work his way through the recommended curriculum if he actually wanted a degree and not just a chance to stare longingly at a handsome skeleton professor.

“is this advanced judo 2?” Stretch asked, a picture of innocence as he sank gratefully into a chair at the back of the classroom. Edge paused midway through writing a lesson outline on the whiteboard.

“NO. THIS IS PHILOSOPHY OF ANCIENT CIVILIZATIONS, THOUGH I’M NOT ABOVE PUNCTUATING MY LECTURES WITH JUDO FLIPS IF YOU’D PREFER THAT METHOD OF LEARNING.” The writing resumed.

The judo flips proved to be unnecessary; Stretch aced the course as easily as he’d aced the others. The lanky skeleton was a single semester away from an Associate’s Degree with a sterling 4.0 grade point average and the acclamation of every professor and department head that he encountered. His chosen degree entailed English credits, though, and Stretch could no longer put them off. He was pleasantly surprised to discover that Edge led the English department and handled all of the high level courses personally. 

Basic English and literature classes filled quickly, but the high level classes required Edge’s personal stamp of approval for any student who dared to request them. Stretch submitted his course schedule online, and Edge invited him for an interview the very next day. This would be a one-on-one meeting in Edge’s office, and Stretch found himself uncharacteristically nervous at the thought of facing Edge alone.

Stretch knocked on the door to the English administrative office, and when Edge called for him to enter, he did so with an attempt at his trademark humor.

“is this the Doki Doki Literature Club?” he asked, stepping into Edge’s unsurprisingly spartan workspace.

“I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THAT IS,” Edge answered drily, “AND I SUGGEST YOU ACTUALLY READ YOUR COURSE DESCRIPTIONS IN THE FUTURE. NOW HAVE A SEAT, OR WOULD YOU RATHER CONDUCT OUR MEETING FROM YOUR BACK ON THE FLOOR.”

Stretch pretended to consider the offer, and Edge stood up and reached for him across the desk as if to grab him for a flip. His face moved close to Stretch’s, and without thinking, the lazybones leaned forward and kissed him.

Startled, Edge kissed back, taking far too long to shove the other skeleton away. “SUCH BEHAVIOR IS INAPPROPRIATE BETWEEN TEACHERS AND STUDENTS,” he rasped, shaken, and Stretch, face flaming with an orange blush, fled the office and the campus. Edge regretted his severity immediately, but immediately was too late.

Taking any English classes at the college would now be impossible for Stretch. The conflict of interest could cost Edge his career as a professor. Edge had rejected him anyway; seeing him on campus would hurt too much.

The counselor, unaware of Stretch’s reason for dropping out of college in his final semester, argued for him to stay. Stretch refused. Dropping out of college seemed fitting for someone with such slothful habits. The only thing he truly regretted was running away without telling Edge how he felt. Hood pulled over his lowered head, Stretch left campus for the last time…

… and bumped into someone carrying a box full of odds and ends.

“WATCH OU- CARROT?”

“professor?”

“WHY AREN’T YOU IN CLASS?”

“i dropped out. i didn’t want you to risk your job…”

“I QUIT MY JOB,” said Edge. “I DIDN’T WANT YOU TO DROP OUT IF…”

“if?”

“IF WE STARTED DATING.”

The two skeletons stared at each other. Edge had already resigned. Stretch had already dropped out. The staring continued until Stretch broke the silence.

“soooo, boyfriends then?”

Edge let out a long-suffering sigh. “YES. BOYFRIENDS.”


	4. Day Four: Fake Dating (Soriel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Fake Dating
> 
> Pairing: Classic Soriel
> 
> Category: Romantic

Sometimes Toriel regretted leaving her cozy home in the Ruins to move to the Surface with the rest of monsterkind, and all of these instances mysteriously occurred whenever her ex-husband, Asgore, was nearby. While she admired the gentle King’s persistence, she wished that he would direct it elsewhere since she had no plans of reconciling their marriage or even spending more than a few moments in the same room as him.

Unfortunately, the royal monsters shared mutual friends, and get-togethers often involved Asgore making attempts to rekindle their long-ago romance and Toriel putting as much distance as she could between herself and her ex. It was an exhausting ordeal, like hide-and-seek for poorly adjusted adults.

Thankfully, a solution appeared in the form of a pun-loving skeleton named Sans. Toriel and the aforementioned skeleton were exchanging puns at a neighborhood barbecue hosted by Papyrus. She’d accidentally made eye contact with Asgore, and he was making a beeline for her. No avenue of escape presented itself, so she quickly whispered to Sans: “Pretend we’re dating.”

Sans didn’t question the request; he loved shenanigans of any kind. Asbore walked right up to Toriel and grabbed her hand, eyes pleading with her to forgive him, to take him back. Sans pretended that he’d just arrived, stepping up beside Toriel and planting an obvious kiss on her cheek. With feigned shock he suddenly “noticed” Asgore.

“hey, Fluffybuns,” he greeted Asgore casually. The King nodded at him, still processing the kiss on the cheek, assessing it for possible romantic value.

“There you are, sweetheart,” Toriel said pointedly, pulling her hand away from her ex-husband and clasping it tightly with her fake boyfriend’s much smaller hand. Asgore still looked skeptical, so Sans drove the point home.

“i hope there’s no hard feelings with me dating your ex and all,” said Sans, rubbing the back of his skull as if it embarrassed him to break the news to Asgore this way. 

“Of course not,” blustered Asgore, still not moving away from them.

“after all, she’s an ex-cellent lady, and i’m ex-tremely ex-cited to be with her,” the skeleton blathered on. Toriel giggled, but Asgore finally took the hint. He wasn’t a fan of puns at the best of times, and finding out that Toriel had chosen a new suitor did not qualify as the best of anything… except maybe the best excuse to leave.

“I can’t believe it worked!” Toriel let out yet another laugh, this one caused by relief instead of mirth.

“that’s because i’m an ex-pert in the field of fake dating,” joked Sans, and this time Toriel’s lovely laughter was all for him and his punning abilities.

After the initial success of their phony relationship, Sans accompanied Toriel to any event where Asgore might show his fluffy buns. Toriel hated the deception, but it worked in a way that her words had not. Asgore never approached her when Sans was at her side, but she still sometimes felt his eyes on her when they made appearances together.

Sans proved to be more than ex-husband repellent, though. Whenever they were together pretending to be boyfriend and girlfriend, Sans went out of his way to make her smile and laugh. He distracted her so much that at times she forgot whether Asgore was at an event at all, and after awhile, she no longer cared. The dating charade meant more to her than just an excuse to shake off a clingy ex.

She truly enjoyed the time she spent with Sans.

“hey, Tori, i don’t think Asgore’s even at this party.” Sans’ deep voice interrupted Toriel’s thoughts.

“Oh I know,” she replied absently. “Sans, would you do me a favor?”

“anything for you, Tori.”

“Kiss me… on the mouth this time,” Toriel delivered her request in a soft, almost shy voice.

“but you said Asgore wasn’t here,” replied Sans, oblivious to the flirtation. Toriel waited, and when realization finally dawned on Sans, he kissed her… not because she’d asked him for it but because he’d always wanted to.


	5. Day Five: Celebration (Lamia Bitty Kustard)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Celebration
> 
> Pairing: Lamia Bitty Kustard
> 
> Category: Familial

Every lamia bitty’s life starts out as a celebration. As the hatchling lamia opens his sockets onto the world for the first time, he is greeted by the proud face of a doting parent, an awestruck adopter’s muted gasp, or Edgar’s welcoming smile. From that point on, a lamia’s life is full of milestones to celebrate from his first practice pounce onto real or imaginary prey to a transition to adulthood where he begins a life of his own.

At the Lamia Bittybones Adoption Center, these celebrations are shared by Edgar, the nursery caretaker and the rest of the bitty shop staff. Edgar has his own private collection of mangled plush toys that his ferocious hatchlings have dispatched and presented to him. The owl-skeleton hybrid does tend to tear up and sniffle just a bit when he congratulates his hatchling on their graduation from the nursery to the nesting areas of the shop. It’s hard to see his little hatchlings all grown up.

The next event to celebrate is a lamia’s adoption day. Each lamia waits for that oh-so-perfect owner to enter the shop, notice him, and fall in love. Lamias daydream of what their lives will be like in these new, special homes, and being chosen is, according to the lamia themselves, one of the best feelings in the world. Even their hatching dates pale in comparison to the annual celebration of their adoption day.

The rest of a lamia’s life may contain small celebrations, large celebrations, or no additional celebrations at all. Sometimes a lamia simply craves a life of quiet contentment, like a Corny and a Coral who have found themselves a home together. The pair of lamia roommates thought that their life would be smooth and uneventful until certain feelings began to blossom between them. 

Surely the stages of bonding are something to celebrate once completed?

Especially the final stage of bonding when a Coral and a Corny officially become lifelong mates and their totally-not-crying adopter throws rice on them in some strange human tradition that both bewilders and delights them.

In the days that follow, the two lamias scour the house, searching out a quiet corner for a secluded nesting space. Their adopter helps them set it all up- their own private nursery, hidden away in an unused closet. By the time the nursery preparations are complete, the Coral’s tummy already shows the distinct roundness of eggs.

A few short weeks later, the three true eggs rock and wobble, hairline cracks spider-webbing across their surfaces. The expectant lamia parents lean forward, sockets wide with wonder as the first uncoordinated hatchling flops out of his shell, blinking up at the bright new world. His two brothers follow close behind, emerging from their shells with much more fanfare than finesse.

The adopter watches from a respectful distance as the brand new lamia parents complete the circle of celebration by welcoming their three beautiful new hatchlings into the world.


	6. Day Six: Hurt/Comfort (AfterDeath)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Hurt/Comfort
> 
> Pairing: AfterDeath
> 
> Category: Romantic

Sometimes Reaper hated the cruel fate that doomed him to an existence as the deity of death. Sometimes he wished that he could cast off his cloak and scythe and live as normal monsters and humans did. Sometimes he couldn’t even bear to look at the poor suffering SOULs that he collected as the living transitioned into death. Guiding them to the afterlife was a thankless task, and sometimes he wanted out.

Today happened to be one of those days. It always hurt the worst when the SOUL he arrived to gather belonged to someone young, someone who had barely begun to experience life. Those deaths weighed the heaviest on him as he shepherded the tiny SOULs away from the bodies that they had abandoned far too soon.

The fact that no living creature could offer him the slightest physical comfort only added to his burden. The dead rarely waited around to chat, viewing him only as the harbinger of their demise, and his fatal touch meant that he could never risk receiving even the tiniest gesture of solace- a touch on the cheek, a head rested upon a welcoming shoulder, a supportive arm slung casually around the back- without killing the person who sought to help him.

His was a lonely life of isolation without end, and on days like today, despite the singing birds and blooming flowers, it seemed like his own personal hell. To escape his responsibilities and the pity he saw in the eyes of the other deities that he called friends, he fled to the Void. The vast, dark nothingness of the Void echoed the emptiness inside of him… at least it usually did. Today, though, the Void had a visitor.

It was strange to see another skeleton monster interrupting the murky darkness of the Void. The other skeleton seemed to be fighting (and losing) his own emotional battle, curled up with his knees held against his chest, one eye staring but seeing nothing. Reaper considered making a hasty exit to another timeline, but the stranger intrigued him. He crept closer, observing the newcomer.

The other skeleton’s clothing was torn, showing a wound across his chest, and an odd glitch partially obscured his face. Something bright red, possibly blood leaked in thin lines from his mouth. A long, equally red scarf unfurled behind him, moving as if touched by a breeze though no air stirred in the Void. Surprisingly, the skeleton emitted no signals of life beyond the fact that he shifted in his spot every now and again. Reaper knew the dead when he saw them, and he could see the auras of the living. This monster was neither.

Mortal eyes (or eyelights) could not recognize immortal beings, yet the moment Reaper stepped into the other skeleton’s line of sight, the stranger leapt to his feet, throwing his arms out as if to ward off an attack. Reaper recoiled, a natural reaction for someone whose touch killed instantly, but he moved too slowly. The other skeleton’s hand brushed his face, and he braced himself, waiting for the inevitable collapse and appearance of a dispossessed SOUL.

Nothing happened.

The stranger scrambled backwards a few paces and stared at him. Reaper supposed he must look alarming- an amorphous mass sensed but indiscernible against a backdrop of inky blackness, with only the pale hint of a skull and gleaming blue eyelights visible. He extended his arms past the sleeves of his cloak and lowered his hood.

“Do not be afraid, mortal,” Reaper intoned, but the visitor interrupted him by barking out a humorless laugh. Reaper continued, all bravado lost. “I’m, uh, Reaper, the, um, deity of death.”

“You missed your chance then, friendo,” answered the stranger. “I’ve been dead for a while now; only the Determination keeps me going.”

Reaper cleared his throat awkwardly. “I’m not actually here to, uh, collect you,” he admitted. “I’m actually… on break.”

The other skeleton laughed a little more gently this time. “That’s a relief, probably. Do you come here to hide away from the world too?”

Reaper nodded.

“I’m Geno,” said the other skeleton, reaching out to shake Reaper’s hand. Reaper yanked his hand away, but again, he wasn’t quick enough. Geno shook his hand only once, letting it drop when he noticed Reaper’s discomfort. “Something wrong?”

Reaper stared at his hand in wonder, then glanced up at Geno, meeting the other skeleton’s eyelights. “I can’t… touch people,” he explained, though the words were clearly untrue. “My touch kills.”

“Not me it doesn’t.” Geno sounded proud but also a bit melancholy.

“I’ve seen too much death today anyway,” sighed Reaper, sitting down on the ground. Geno sat down beside him, not touching, but with very little distance between them. “Me too.” Scenes from a plethora of genocide timelines played in his mind. He’d come here to escape them. “Timelines without mercy… they all live up here.” He tapped the side of his skull.

Reaper nodded again. The inescapability of the deaths they’d experienced was a trauma they shared. Tentatively, Reaper stretched out his hand and rested it on Geno’s hand. The other skeleton didn’t move away.

Death smiled.

Shared visits to the Void became a regular occurrence with the two skeletons. Each had his own reasons for being there, and they found a reprieve from their overwhelming sorrows in each other’s company. Often they sat side-by-side, hands touching and no words spoken to break the solemn silence. Other times they spoke of their sorrows, offering consoling hugs or an empathetic shoulder to cry on as they fought to cast out their personal demons.

“Do you remember when we first met?” Reaper asked Geno on a quieter visit to the Void, one made for companionship and not to flee from his responsibilities. He suspected that Geno often had similar reasons for making so many trips to the infinite nothingness from his usual residence- the Save Screen.

“Of course.” Geno leaned against Reaper. “I wanted to escape the horrors of the past, and you were avoiding a bleak future.”

“Yeah,” agreed Reaper. “The past is full of unreconciled suffering, and the future is still a dismal prospect, but the here and now? Well… that I kind of like.”

With those words he leaned over and planted a kiss on Geno’s mouth.


	7. Day Seven: Dancing (Horrortale Skelebros)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Dancing
> 
> Pairing: Horrortale Skelebros
> 
> Category: Familial

It was so strange. Without the pressing need to scavenge for any scrap of food that they could get their hands on, the skeleton brothers who’d escaped from the Horrortale universe found themselves with an abundance of free time and no idea how to fill it. Axe appreciated the down time, but Crooks believed that he and his brother needed activities to burn off their excess magic and calm Axe’s nagging mania.

Cooking classes were out of the question; the skeleton brothers still saw food as something sacred. It tempted fate to use it for creative pursuits, and the two skeletons would never truly lose their paranoia of losing it. Crooks preferred something relaxing but with motion and beauty, something that embodied everything that their Underground had lacked. Axe agreed with anything that brought a smile to his brother’s face, so they decided to try dancing.

A few internet searches pointed the pair of skeletons to weekly Latin dance lessons at the local community center. Crooks stared in excitement at the photos on the community center webpage. The dancers wore vibrant outfits and their movements embodied powerful emotion. Most importantly, Crooks felt that his extremely long limbs could be tamed into the graceful positions and elegant expressions of the dance. 

Axe and Crooks signed up for the classes immediately, and Crooks’ excitement only grew as their first session drew near. The tall skeleton bounced in place as Axe opened the door to the community center gymnasium. The murmur of conversation trailed off as every eye in the room, all of them both curious and human, turned to the monsters in their midst. The humans closest to Crooks shrank away in fear, and one woman shrieked before clapping both of her hands over her mouth to silence herself.

Axe was no stranger to fear and revulsion. In the Underground and here on the Surface, everyone he met, human and monster, viewed his broken skull and ragged red eyelight with blatant uneasiness and poorly disguised disgust. He expected it, and it didn’t really bother him anymore. One look at Crooks’ distraught features told Axe that his brother _was_ bothered by it… a lot.

Suddenly, Axe saw enemies, threats, danger. His mind quickly grew crowded with confused thoughts that he couldn’t untangle, and this reality became jumbled with his former life in the Underground. Crooks grabbed his arm, hastily mumbled apologies, and backed out of the room as Axe’s one working eyelight expanded and began to glow.

“COME ALONG BROTHER,” the gentle giant coaxed his brother in a soothing voice. Still gathering his thoughts, Axe followed Crooks out of the community center building building and away from the judgmental dance students. It took him hours to settle his mind and react appropriately to the situation.

“stupid humans act like they’ve never seen a skeleton before. they’ve got a skeleton inside ‘em all the time, but the sight of one still sets ‘em off, screaming and carryin’ on,” Axe ranted.

“I FRIGHTEN THEM, BROTHER. I AM VERY TALL, AND MY TEETH ARE QUITE STARTLING IN APPEARANCE,” Crooks argued though he secretly felt ashamed and embarrassed by the whole debacle.

“yer perfect, bro, and they can shove their dumb prejudices up their fleshy-” Axe proceeded to explain in exceptionally graphic detail exactly what the humans should (but were probably physically unable to) do with their opinions of Crooks. 

Though the incident at the community center left him crestfallen, Crooks appreciated his brother’s quick defense of him. Even if nobody else liked him, he knew he could trust Axe to have his best interests at heart. He just needed to figure out a different hobby, preferably one that didn’t involve interacting with humans.

Axe refused to let the matter drop though. He didn’t mention it to his brother, but he spent a great deal of time researching Latin dance instructors in their area. One by one, he contacted them about lessons for self-conscious monsters. He doubted he could lure Crooks to another class, but perhaps he could learn the dance steps and instruct Crooks himself? He remembered the expression on Crooks’ face when they’d first discovered Latin dance, and that image drove him on until he found a teacher.

The wizened woman had once danced professionally, and she had retired from her days both as a professional and an instructor, a fact which she explained to Axe over the phone right before she hung up on him. Most of the potential teachers waited until he mentioned being a monster with a grotesque head injury before turning him down. Retired, he could deal with. He contacted her again, telling her in one babbling rush about Crooks and the community center incident.

The other end of the phone line was silent, but he didn’t hear a dial tone, only the weight of unspoken consideration. “And he won’t come to classes?” the elderly woman asked.

“”he’s very self-conscious already,” explained Axe, “an’ after what happened, he’s reluctant t’ go out in public again.”

“Understandable. I expect you to be at my studio at 8 am sharp.”

Punctuality never mattered much to Axe, but every single day he showed up promptly at 8 o’clock in the morning for his private dance lessons. The focus needed to learn the complex steps helped him calm his often tumultuous mind, and he found himself truly enjoying each dance that he learned. There were many to learn, it turned out. Latin dance was a style of dancing, not just one set of dance steps, and it included many different dance types.

After months of intensive lessons, Axe could samba and mambo with the best of them, and his paso doble had been declared passable! Thankfully, his instructor also made him practice teaching the steps. When she finally declared him ready, she also challenged him to convince Crooks to visit the studio because flamenco (the style of dance that mesmerized him the most) required an expertise to teach that Axe couldn’t develop in a short amount of time.

She also asked him an important question: Had he been able to find an outfit for Crooks (who absolutely adored the dresses worn in Latin dances) in his very unusual size. Axe hadn’t considered clothing, and admitted this to the kindly older woman. She nodded; his answer didn’t surprise her. Fortunately, in addition to being a talented dancer, she possessed some decent skills as a seamstress and had designed all of her own competition costumes. 

With Crooks’ estimated measurements in hand, the woman promised to have something ready in time for Axe’s surprise at the end of the month. Axe warned her not to overwork herself, but excitement over doing something kind for Crooks was apparently extremely contagious. When the instructor showed him her sketches the next day, Axe’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor. These dresses were everything Crooks could ever want and more, all saturated fire tones and ruffles that would echo and accentuate every movement of Crooks’ body.

The woman refused all of Axe’s offers of money, saying that she wanted to see Crooks happy more than she needed cash. After all, she pointed out, she was retired and no longer taking on paying clients. Over the course of their lessons, she had come to consider Axe, and by extension, Crooks, to be friends.

Axe snuck the garment bag into his brother’s room while Crooks was busy doing magic exercises. With the costume stealthily delivered, Axe went downstairs and approached his brother. “remember how you wanted t’ learn Latin dancing?” he asked Crooks; if you asked Axe about subtly, he would’ve guessed it was a hot beverage.

Crooks tensed instantly, remembering the woman who had screamed at the sight of him. “NO, NO. THAT’S ALRIGHT. I DON’T WANT TO MAKE PEOPLE UNCOMFORTABLE. I DON’T WANT THEM TO BE SCARED OF ME,” the last words came out softly, as quiet as Crooks’ voice ever sounded.

“lucky for you then: i took some classes myself. got you an outfit n’ everything. i can teach you myself now.” Axe smiled proudly. Crooks stood frozen for a moment then swept Axe up into his arms, spinning him around. As soon as he set Axe back on his feet, he dashed upstairs, and Axe heard his gasps of wonder when he saw the custom-tailored garment.

Axe said a silent thank you to his instructor-cum-seamstress for her talent. Even working with estimates alone for Crooks’ measurements, the costume fit wonderfully, clinging and flowing in all of the right places. Crooks almost floated down the stairs, doing a little twirl at the bottom to show the flounce of the skirt.

Axe stepped forward and made a formal bow. He’d removed his hoodie to reveal a T-shirt printed to look like a tuxedo though he still wore his basketball shorts. Looking up at Crooks’ unabashed smile he asked: “may i have this dance?”


	8. Day Eight: Clothes (Swapfell Skelebros)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Clothes
> 
> Pairing: Swapfell Skelebros
> 
> Category: Familial

Mutt avoided laundry day for this exact reason. After realizing that his beloved jacket thoroughly reeked of smoke, barbecue sauce, and unwashed bones, he’d washed it, only for it to turn up missing. Good jackets were hard to find, especially ones with the big fluffy hoods that he preferred. This one had even been embroidered with a Gaster blaster silhouette across the back (courtesy of spider monster and local entrepreneur, Muffet), and now it was gone!

He doubted that he’d find another jacket in his size and style at the Dump, but walking around in his tank top and jeans left Mutt feeling extremely exposed and vulnerable. He needed the bulk of the jacket to comfort him and add some intimidation to his look to keep other, more powerful monsters away. He couldn’t risk being injured with a babybones brother to take care of.

Speaking (or rather thinking) of little Blackberry- a name based entirely on his roundness and magic color… where had the stripes-clad little stinker run off to?

Mutt’s search for his jacket became a search for the wayward babybones. Blackberry had a knack for getting into trouble, and brothers couldn’t be scavenged for at the Dump. Mutt rushed through the interconnected caves that comprised their personal fortress until he heard the boisterous sound of Blackberry’s voice. For a tiny little guy, the babybones sure spoke loudly!

When Mutt finally stumbled upon the cave where his brother was playing, he found the cutest sight that his eyelights could ever hope to behold: Blackberry was wearing his jacket, and it was quite a few sizes too big. Black’s stubby arms barely reached the elbows, and the overhanging sleeves flopped adorably as he gestured. The hem of the jacket dragged along the cave floor, and Black occasionally tripped over it.

One of Black’s stuffed animals, a bunny with one drooping ear, sat propped against a rock; several other stuffed animals that Mutt had collected for his brother over the course of his garbage scavenging trips surrounded the bunny.

“DON’T WOWWY, BWACKBEWWY!” bellowed the babybones in what Mutt assumed was meant to me an imitation of his voice. “YOUW BIG BWOTHER IS HEWE TO SAVE YOU!”

Careful to remain unseen, Mutt took his precious cell phone- a gift from his sometimes benefactor Muffet- out of his pocket and hit the button to record a video.

“THEY’WE TOO STWONG!” cried Blackberry, bouncing his bunny doll in time with the words as if the doll itself was speaking in the falsetto that Black used for his own voice.

“NOBODY’S TOO STWONG FOW THE GWEAT PAPYWUS! WHAM! POW! YOU’WE BWOO NOW! TIME FOR MY GASTER BWASTER ATTACK!” Blackberry responded, using his “Papywus” voice again. He then proceeded to make kicking, punching, and karate chopping gestures at the other plush toys, knocking them over one by one and providing extremely inaccurate sound effects and exaggerated cries for “mewcy.”

“YOU’WE MY HEWO!” declared the stuffed bunny version of Blackberry as the real Blackberry accepted a hug from the doll.

“I’M NO HEWO,” answered the Mutt-voice, “I’M JUST THE GWEATEST BIG BWOTHER EVER!”

Wiping tears from the corners of his sockets, Mutt saved the video then swooped down on his doppelganger to pull him into a tight hug, jacket theft completely forgotten. Years later, when life looked bleak and tough situations pushed him to the edge of falling down, he would take out his phone and watch that video. It reminded him that he had something to look forward to each and every day: his brother, Blackberry.


	9. Day Nine: Snowy/Rainy Day (Underswap Skelebros)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Snowy/Rainy Day
> 
> Pairing: Underswap Skelebros
> 
> Category: Familial

“THIS IS A PERFECT SPOT FOR OUR SENTRY STATION!” Blue declared with utmost excitement. His older brother, Stretch, nodded amicably. 

The younger skeleton monster still wore stripes, but his age did not diminish his dream of becoming a sentry and, someday, a Royal Guard. Blue hounded the Royal Guard Captain, Alphys, constantly, marveling at her every action, and when she’d informed him that Royal Guards were always on the lookout for humans, he immediately declared himself to be the Sentry of Snowdin Forest.

Stretch wished his little brother also listened to the legends regarding how powerful and dangerous humans were, but he refused to hamper his little brother’s enthusiasm. Thus, the two skeletons found themselves walking down the lonely path through Snowdin Forest towards the Ruins, arms filled with building materials: discarded cardboard boxes from Muffet’s Bar and Restaurant and plenty of duct tape.

While Stretch meandered around the construction site, lost in his thoughts about Royal Guards and humans, Blue had already cleared a large area of the forest’s ever-present snow. Blue’s boundless energy made Stretch crave a nap or five just from watching him scurry around. In fact, Stretch decided to sprawl out in the center of the future sentry station location and do just that.

Blue puffed his cheeks in outrage. “YOU’RE. SUPPOSED. TO. BE. HELPING!” he cried in exasperation, trying to lift his brother into a standing position. Uncooperative, as all big brothers are required to be, Stretch kept going limp and sliding out of Blue’s hands to puddle on the ground again. If a skeleton could be boneless, Stretch would be the one to achieve it.

“i am helping,” claimed Stretch from his prone position. “i’m making sure the area you cleared doesn’t float away now that there’s no snow to hold it down!”

Blue threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “THAT DOESN’T HAPPEN!” Despite his objection, Blue eyed the patch of dirt uncertainly. “WE’D BETTER HURRY AND BUILD OUR SENTRY STATION JUST IN CASE THOUGH!”

Stretch chuckled. Blue might be ready to graduate from his stripes soon, but he still made the perfect target for pranks. Dutifully, Stretch stood up and began laying out pieces of cardboard to form the structure of the sentry station. Blue directed the project, and eventually he also became his own architectural and construction team since Stretch often deliberately misunderstood his directions, as older brothers are also wont to do.

Despite his brother’s unrelenting shenanigans, Blue soon had a (somewhat dilapidated) cardboard kiosk erected between some coniferous trees beside the path to the Ruins- a perfect spot to catch any humans who might attempt to enter Snowdin and cause mischief… or possibly even… mayhem!

Stretch surveyed his brother’s work. For a building made entirely of compressed paper, it seemed structurally sound even if it appeared to be a bit off-kilter- most likely a result of his antagonistic interference. “this support beam looks a little unsteady,” he commented. “maybe we should strengthen it with some _cardboard_ -hydrates?”

Blue uttered a choked sound of indignation and stomped his foot, finally at his limit for his brother’s teasing. Stretch just laughed… until Blue scooped up a handful of snow and tossed it at him. 

The epic snow war that pitted brother against brother began in earnest with only a light scattering of falling snowflakes to bear witness to it. Blue’s boundless energy proved to be an advantage as the small skeleton scooped up huge armloads of snow to dump on his brother. Stretch succumbed quickly to the onslaught, allowing Blue to bury him up to his neck in his own private snow poff without much protest or retaliation.

“MWEH HEH HEH,” crowed a victorious Blue. As the snow battle wound down, the intensity of the snowfall increased until a blizzard overtook Snowdin Forest, obscuring anything more than an arm's length in front of the skeletons.

Stretch wiggled his way out from under the pile of snow that Blue had dumped on him, and the pair of skeletons sought shelter together in the only structure available- their newly constructed sentry station.

“you really _buried_ me in that snowball fight,” teased Stretch, enjoying the sight of his little brother stomping in outrage at the terrible puns. “that was _cold_ , bro.”

Blue groaned, and Stretch put one bony hand to his equally bony brow. “i’m so exhausted from the ordeal that _icy_ stars.” With that final pun, Stretch collapsed dramatically… right on top of Blue.

“PAPY, NO!” cried Blue in dismay, fighting to hold Stretch up and failing.

“sorry, bro, gravity is increasing on me,” explained Stretch as his body weight slowly crushed Blue to the floor.

“NO IT ISN’T!” shouted Blue.

“yup. same thing happened to me yesterday.”

“YOU ROTTEN BROTHER! YOUR BUTT IS CRUSHING ME!” complained Blue from the floor where Stretch’s sprawl of lanky limbs squashed him into the ground. No matter how much he pushed and shoved, he couldn’t move the bigger skeleton.

Soon, Blue stopped struggling and went unusually still and quiet. Concerned, Stretch stood up to check on him only to discover that Blue, exhausted from building the shack and trouncing him in snow combat, had fallen asleep.

Stretch pulled off his hoodie and laid it over Blue’s small body to keep him warm. He shivered a bit, but the cold didn’t bother him enough to leave his brother uncovered. When the blizzard subsided, Stretch carried Blue, still wrapped in his hoodie, back to their house and tucked him into bed properly.

* * *

Over the years, the rickety looking shack deep in Snowdin Forest stood firm, despite its hodgepodge construction, and if each of the skeleton brothers occasionally paid it a visit for maintenance to ensure its continued existence? Well, it certainly wasn’t something worth mentioning….


	10. Day Ten: Cooking (Dreamtale Skelebros x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Cooking
> 
> Pairing: Dreamtale Skelebros x Reader
> 
> Category: Platonic

“ _Apples_?” you asked in a voice rife with skepticism. “You brought _apples_ to our cooking lesson?”

The twin skeleton guardians of the Sacred Tree at least had the decency to appear appropriately chastised before they corrected you.

“These aren’t from our Tree,” Dream explained.

“We just thought it would be funny,” continued Night, looking a bit embarrassed at the premise of the joke now that it had fallen flat.

You sighed. “When life gives you apples, it’s time to make a pie, right?” Smiles lit up the skeletons’ faces- so similar, yet so different if you knew them well enough. Dream’s smiles were as bright as sunshine and as plentiful as seeds on a sunflower. Night smiled reluctantly, his emotions kept shadowed and guarded like the moon on a cloudy autumn night.

Neither of the brothers had many friends among the villagers, though most villagers found Dream appealing for his warm personality. Everyone focused so much on the Sacred Tree and its golden apples that they sometimes forgot that the guardians were people just like everyone else… well, not quite like everyone else, but close enough for you, at least. You had invited them over for a cooking lesson to help them feel included in at least one villager’s life.

The two skeletons placed their apples on your counter, and you frowned briefly before schooling your face to neutrality. The apples were two different types. You recognized Granny Smith apples right away from their unique color, and closer inspection of the other apples revealed stickers that read “Honeycrisp.” Not only were these apples of two different types, they had completely different textures and flavor profiles. You decided to peel them and chop them into small pieces instead of slices to disguise the inconsistency.

While you worked, you instructed the guardians to start on the pie dough.

You provided Dream and Night with a worn and well-loved recipe book that contained all of your favorite recipes with annotations for changes, tips, and results. You trusted the simple pie crust recipe that the book contained. Even beginning bakers like the skeleton twins should be able to follow the directions easily.

Should be.

You focused on peeling and chopping the apples, only half paying attention to the two skeletons. Dream and Night took turns measuring flour, adding cold water, and chopping up butter for their part of the recipe. The butter chopping became a friendly competition, and you didn’t even notice that before long, an entire pound of butter had found its way into the pie crust mixture. You did notice, however, the mention of eggs.

“Baking requires eggs,” Night explained to Dream, who had appointed himself leader of their foray into crust construction. You turned towards them just in time to see Night holding out a pair of eggs to Dream. Dream cracked the eggs into the pie crust mixture before you even had a chance to protest.

_Pie crusts don’t use eggs at all_ , you wanted to tell them, but you also didn’t want to discourage their ambitious efforts, so you simply hoped that the crust could survive their misguided attempt at being expert chefs.

Once the pie crust mixture had been thoroughly mixed- and subsequently spilled several times due to overenthusiasm- you helped the twins press it into a floured pie pan. It actually looked passable despite the addition of eggs and a bit too much butter. It helped that both brothers had insisted on adding a handful flour to the pan. The abundance of flour absorbed the extra moisture.

Next, the apples needed to be seasoned with sugar, cinnamon, ginger, and nutmeg. You watched carefully as each skeleton sprinkled the correct amount of sugar over the apple pieces. Dream and Night struggled a bit with the spices though.

First, Dream added the cinnamon. Night was supposed to add the other two spices, but due to a mix up with the containers, he ended up adding even more cinnamon. In an attempt to assist his brother, Dream only succeeded in spilling a small mountain of nutmeg onto half of the apples. You scraped as much of it as you could off of the fruit, but you were pretty sure that this pie would become a freshly baked spice bomb.

Still determined to make this pie fiasco work, you helped the brothers cut the rest of the pie dough into strips so they could make a latticework top for their pie, something unnecessary and fancy that made both brothers bounce with excitement. You turned your attention to making an egg wash, delegating the weaving of the edible lattice to the two skeletons, a task which they settled into with the utmost concentration and excessive planning.

It was difficult to hold in your laughter as the pair squabbled good-naturedly over how the lattice should be woven. It may not have been the best-looking pie crust you’d seen, but the pride that Dream and Night clearly felt over their work made a few wayward strips of pie crust a nonissue.

A quick brush of egg wash and a sprinkling of sugar and the pie was officially ready for bake time. Thankfully your oven had an interior light so that the brothers could watch their creation bake without constantly opening the oven door and letting the heat escape. The sweet scent of apples and the tang of spices filled your home as the guardians of the Sacred Tree waited anxiously through the longest 2700 seconds of their lives for their pie to finish baking.

The moment of truth arrived: you removed the pie carefully from the oven, letting it rest for several more excruciatingly long minutes before carving three slices out of the steaming monstrosity and setting them on three small plates. You, Dream, and Night each picked up a spoon and lifted bites of the fragrant pie to your mouths in perfectly choreographed unison.

It tasted terrible. The crust lacked any sort of golden flakiness (thanks to the addition of eggs), the apples’ flavors somehow cancelled each other out creating a strange absence of apple taste, and the overabundance of cinnamon and nutmeg scorched your mouth and nose and made the entire thing difficult to swallow.

If the price of seeing the delight that shone on the guardians’ faces was choking down a slice of horrendous apple pie though, then every bite was worth it...

… but you insisted on letting them take home the leftovers.


	11. Day Eleven: Finding/Adopting a Pet (Underfell Skelebros)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Finding/Adopting a Pet
> 
> Pairing: Underfell Skelebros
> 
> Category: Familial

The skeleton brothers from the Underfell universe didn’t need reasons to argue. Their antagonistic brotherly relationship transcended their life in the Underground, following them to their new home on the Surface. Most of the pointless altercations ended with Red storming out of the house, door slamming behind him on his way to Grillby’s. By the time he stumbled back home in the wee hours of the morning, the animosity had faded away into mild worry on Edge’s part over his brother’s whereabouts.

Scoldings over his trips to Grillby’s comprised a rather large percentage of the argument fodder, and unfortunately, when Red opened the door that day to storm out to his favorite haunt, Doomfanger darted out before either skeleton could stop her. The little white streak vanished into the hedges that bordered the driveway, and the brothers stood slack-jawed in the wake of her escape.

The shocked silence didn’t last long.

Without missing a beat, Edge berated Red while simultaneously shoving him out of the way to pursue his wayward cat. Edge almost knocked Red off his feet in his hurry to find her, and a string of insults slowly faded into a murmur then to silence as the distance between the brothers increased. Red took a seat on the front steps and closed the door behind him, opting to await Doomfanger’s possible return instead of going to Grillby’s. As much as he hated to admit it, he cared about his brother’s cat… and his brother.

Hours passed, and when Edge finally returned to the house that he shared with Red, he appeared dejected. Doomfanger wasn’t with him. Guilt washed over Red, especially when Edge just glanced at him, too fatigued from his search to even toss a casual insult his brother’s way. At that moment Red vowed that he would not rest until they found Doomfanger… after a good night’s sleep of course.

The next day, the two skeletons scoured the neighborhood, showing everyone they passed one of the abundance of photos of Doomfanger that each of them had on his phone. She happened to be a very photogenic cat and adored the glamor and attention of a photo shoot.

Nobody had seen her, but one helpful neighbor from a nearby apartment complex asked them if they had checked the local animal shelter. Stray cats who were friendly enough to be caught by Animal Control were taken there to either await pick-up by their owners or find new ones through the adoption process. Red and Edge locked eyelights, silently agreeing to check the shelter for Doomfanger.

Never one to simply walk through the front door of a public building, Edge organized a two-skeleton recon mission that involved Red crouching in front of each of the animal shelter’s windows while Edge stood on his back to peer inside. Sure enough, one of the windows yielded results. There could be no mistaking that gleaming white fur and delicate pink nose! Doomfanger sat in her crate, peering down her elegant nose at the other scruffy cats around her.

“HUMAN LAW ENFORCEMENT HAS ARRESTED MY PRECIOUS DOOMFANGER! WE MUST INITIATE A JAILBREAK AT ONCE!” growled Edge, leaping to the ground and immediately sketching out rough, elaborate plans into the dirt underneath the window.

“i think you can just go in and claim her,” Red pointed out, but Edge ignored him, tapping his mandible with the stick he was using to create a layout of the building. Red assumed the acorn and leaf on the diagram were meant to represent them, and the twig “X” was probably Doomfanger.

Edge scanned the surrounding area. “THAT SHRUB COULD HIDE THE ENTRANCE OF THE TUNNEL…” he mumbled to himself. Red sighed and wandered around the side of the building to execute his own, much less involved, plan.

Edge was still mulling over the necessity of drugging the guard when Red returned, cat carrier in hand. Doomfanger let out a disgruntled meow at being shuttled around in such an undignified manner.

“HOW DID YOU RESCUE HER?” Edge asked, leaning over to coo at his beloved pet through the grating at the front of the carrier. Red noticed, but did not mention, the sparkle that appeared in Edge’s eyelights when he baby talked to his cat. “DID YOU FEIGN INJURY TO DISTRACT THE GUARD?”

“no, Boss,” replied Red. “i went in and asked for her. they even loaned me this carrier so we could take her home.”

Edge snorted. “I SUPPOSE THAT’S ONE WAY TO DO THINGS,” he grumbled, scuffing out his carefully drawn strategies with the toe of one boot. He paused as if gathering the mental resolve to deliver his next words. “EXCELLENT WORK, SANS.”

Red basked in the praise. The skeleton brothers did not need a reason to argue, but all of their contentious bickering simply served as a disguise for emotions that they struggled to express. No, they didn’t need a reason to argue, but they were working on finding more reasons to encourage and agree.


	12. Day Twelve: The Perfect Gift (Fellswap Gold Skelebros)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: The Perfect Gift
> 
> Pairing: Fellswap Gold Skelebros
> 
> Category: Familial

It’s difficult to plan the perfect gift for your brother’s graduation from stripes to monster adulthood when you’re so busy worrying about his future. Thankfully, Wine prided himself on his strategizing. He started by listing all of the reasons that he worried about his brother, whom he affectionately called Coffee. If he listed his worries, he could organize and solve them more efficiently before turning his attention to the gift choices.

Wine’s primary concern involved the dangerous nature of their universe. Monsters in stripes enjoyed relative safety in the Underground, but adult monsters were always at risk of attack by ambitious monsters seeking to increase their status. Coffee possessed no combat skills; he hated conflict and avoided it whenever possible. The solution for this issue led Wine to his second source of worry: the party.

In order to guarantee Coffee’s safety (as much as anyone’s safety could ever truly be guaranteed), Wine had arranged a grandiose party for the milestone celebration. Many powerful monsters would be attending, showing that Coffee boasted powerful allies who would retaliate against anyone who harmed him. The Queen herself had RSVPed to the event! Wine hoped the sight of a Queen, a Royal Guard Captain, and a variety of influential guests would ensure that no monster dared to threaten his brother.

The party itself presented the third major worry that took up residence in Wine’s thoughts: Coffee would not enjoy the spectacular celebration at all. Wine’s brother became very uncomfortable in social situations. He disliked talking to others and being the center of attention. Thus far, Wine had not devised a solution to his brother’s social aversion. The party needed to happen, and Coffee needed to mingle. Forcing his brother into such a situation, whether for his own good or not, did not sit well with Wine.

The solution dawned on him like the sun that he hoped to someday see: he could kill two proverbial birds with one brilliant idea… if Muffet agreed to help him.

Thankfully, Muffet adored Coffee, so when Wine proposed his master plan to her, she agreed to help without argument or repayment.

Time careened forward as it often did when deadlines needed to be met. Working diligently, Muffet combined her talents with spider silk with Wine’s abundance of magic to craft a gift worthy of Coffee’s new status as an adult. The day of the grand event arrived, and with the party only a few hours away, Wine knocked on the door to his brother’s bedroom.

Coffee opened the door just a crack to see who might want to speak to him, and when he saw his older brother waiting on the other side, he threw the door wide open in welcome. Wine quickly assessed the room for threats, tactical advantages, and escape routes, a habit he’d developed as Captain of the Royal Guard. This room was where Coffee felt the most comfortable, surrounded by the things he enjoyed the most, all gifts from Wine intended to provide a happy life for his brother.

Coffee had a video game paused, the controller abandoned on the floor when Coffee got up to answer Wine’s knock. Rubik’s cubes and other puzzles were scattered about, and an army of figurines marched across the dresser top. Blankets and an overabundance of pillows hid the bed, and Coffee’s clothes were sorted in numerous piles in a system that only made sense to him.

Coffee stood in the center of the room, his private retreat, and wrung his hands, nervous about the upcoming social event. Wine gave his brother a gentle smile and held up the box that contained his brother’s gift. Coffee took the box reverently. He opened the gift by carefully untaping each end and sliding the box out, leaving the wrapping paper intact and tube-shaped. Wine chuckled warmly at this typical behavior of his brother’s. All of Coffee’s idiosyncrasies made him who he was, and Wine took a great deal of comfort in the routine-ness of them.

“NO MORE STRIPES FOR YOU, DEAR BROTHER,” Wine announced as Coffee lifted the lid off of the box. “I THOUGHT YOU WOULD ENJOY THIS PARTICULAR ARTICLE OF CLOTHING INSTEAD.”

Coffee lifted a black hoodie out of the box. The hoodie material felt extremely soft, and when he pulled it on over his skull, the fabric wrapped around him like a comforting hug. The hood allowed him to hide his face so he didn’t feel so exposed. He lifted one soft hoodie string to his mouth and chewed the end of it. 

“i like it,” Coffee said quietly as Wine led him to a full-length mirror in the hallway. It took a moment for Coffee to actually look at himself in the mirror, but when he did, he gasped in delight. The hoodie read “Nervous Guy” when he first saw the lettering on it, but the words changed to “Happy Guy” as soon as the skeleton noticed the words and smiled.

“NOW YOU CAN EXPRESS YOURSELF WITHOUT NEEDING TO SPEAK,” Wine explained unnecessarily. Coffee gave him a rare and cherished hug, and Wine savored it with closed sockets before speaking again. “THERE’S ANOTHER GIFT IN THE BOX TOO.”

Coffee darted back into his room. Underneath the hoodie, the box contained a spiral-bound book with blank pages and a marker. Coffee already had sketchbooks, so he looked to Wine for a (necessary this time) explanation of the gift.

“THE PEN NEVER RUNS OUT OF INK, AND THE BOOK NEVER RUNS OUT PAGES,” said Wine. “IF YOU AREN’T COMFORTABLE TALKING, YOU CAN WRITE WHAT YOU WANT TO SAY IN THE NOTEBOOK.”

Coffee sniffled, tears gathering in his sockets. Wine truly understood him. Coffee had been so afraid of adulthood, so afraid of the implications of a social gathering that focused on him alone. He should have known that Wine would take care of him. He always did.

Leaning over the notebook, Coffee wrote a few words on the very first page, turning them to show his brother.

The lettering of Coffee’s hoodie (which now read “Grateful Guy”) and the message scribbled in the notebook blurred as Wine wiped tears from his own sockets. He and Coffee shared yet another of their treasured embraces, and the notebook laid on the floor, open to the page with the words “Best Brother Ever” written on it.


	13. Day Thirteen: Carrying (King x Krait)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Carrying
> 
> Pairing: King (UF!Papyrus lamia) x Krait (Gaster lamia)
> 
> Category: Romantic

From the moment the newly hatched Krait tumbled out of his shell into the big wide world, the young full-sized King who observed the hatching adored him. Edgar saw the look of affection in the King’s eyes and initially mistook it for that joyful glimmer that he himself felt at seeing any baby creature, but this was different. The King knew that he and the baby Krait were meant to be together always.

Swiftly, the King scooped the Krait into his arms, holding the hatchling close and letting him feel the beat of the bigger lamia’s SOUL. When the King passed the Krait to the nursery caretaker for his first bottle feeding, the hatchling beeped and peeped frantically until Edgar returned him to the King’s arms. The Krait quieted instantly, and from that moment forward, the pair were inseparable.

The King fashioned his scarf into a sling to carry his small friend around in. The Krait, a full-sized lamia himself, grew quickly under the King’s painstaking care. The King fed him until he was old enough that the pair could simply share meals in companionable silence. He preferred to bathe with the King nearby, allowing his friend to dry him off before he returned to his sling. Each night, he fell asleep listening to the gentle thrum of the King’s SOUL.

The King stayed in the nursery well past the time that he should have moved out into the adoption area. He had no intentions of leaving his friend behind. Once the Krait reached young adulthood, they moved to a nest in the shop together. The nest bordered the King nesting area yet was in close proximity to the Krait pools- the best of both worlds!

Though many guests at the shop petted and cuddled the Krait during their visits, he never attempted to stow away in any of their backpacks, purses, or clothing. His bondmate wouldn’t fit in any of the available spaces, and the Krait had no intention of leaving the King behind just as the King had once refused to leave the nursery without him. For his part, the King opted not to participate in displays for potential adopters either. Unless they wanted a Krait, the King just wasn’t interested.

The pair of lamias were in no rush to find a permanent home outside of the shop. They refused to be separated, and if that meant waiting longer (or even forever) for the right adopter, it didn’t bother them as long as they were together. 

Days blended into weeks, and weeks became months. Months eventually accumulated into years, and still the two lamias lived their happy lives in their shared nest in the shop. A potential adopter entered the shop one day while the bondmates lounged next to the Krait pools. The King watched the Krait perform the same type of acrobatics that had won him over during their bonding display. The sight of his bondmate in a Krait’s natural element always brought a smile to his face. The smile widened when he overheard the conversation between the adopter and Vex, the shopkeeper.

“- looking for a Krait and a King. I know it’s an unusual combination, but I think that they would be perfect for me,” the person explained to Vex. The Krait slithered out of the play pool. He’d heard the words King and Krait spoken together too. The King quickly dried the Krait off with a fluffy towel and tucked him into his carrying pouch. The pair snuck closer to the front desk, where Vex asked the adopter a few questions.

Vex spotted the pair and gave them a barely perceptible nod to let them know that she approved of this adopter. Poking his head out of his pouch, the Krait pointed to the satchel sitting on the ground next to the visitor. It seemed like an ideal place to stow away… except that the King would never fit! The bondmates hissed quietly to each other, discussing their stowing away strategy.

Vex continued to distract the adopter while the lamias made plans. In the end, the King decided to wedge himself into the satchel as best he could. It didn’t turn out well. The King could only get the bag over his head and one shoulder, and Vex was running out of ways to keep the person’s attention on her. The Krait bounced up and down on the King, trying to squash him further into the satchel to no avail.

Vex waved her arms wildly as the person turned, just in time to see a King thoroughly stuck in their satchel, one arm contorted above his head to fit inside and the strap snagged on his other arm. A Krait perched atop the King’s head, sockets wide in shock at being caught in the middle of stowing away.

Covering their mouth to hide their laughter, the adopter extricated the King from the satchel. The King and his bondmate looked crestfallen, so the adopter made a quick suggestion: “I have a wagon outside that you’d both fit into. I can wander around the shop for a bit while you sort yourselves out, and I promise not to look in the wagon until I get home.”

Vex watched out the window as the lamia bondmates shifted blankets around in the wagon to hide themselves while their new owner filled out the adoption paperwork. As the Krait snuggled up against his bondmate, a thought occurred to both of them. If their new adopter allowed it and they felt comfortable in their new home, the Krait might soon be doing some carrying of his own...


End file.
